Iron Fic: Merpeople
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants had 24 hours to write 1500 words, using Merpeople as the secret ingredient. They're best poached in readers' tears, apparently...
1. Chapter 1

Iron fic Merpeople.

Albus Dumbledore watched himself in the bathroom mirror.

"You missed a bit." It told him.

He took the long, open bladed, razor and removed some tufts of, what his dorm mates rudely called bum fluff, off his cheeks.

Once he was done shaving, he dressed himself and lastly put on his medallion, the symbol of The Hallows, the symbol of the knowledge seeker.

Let the old grey beards declare this forbidden and that forbidden, Albus knew better. Knowledge was pure and neutral. Man could do terrible things, but the search for knowledge was a worthy act.

He had learnt this last year when he went walking deep into the forest. The centaurs had been wary at first, not out of fear, why should those mighty stallions fear him after all? But wary that they didn't want their society contaminated by foolish human concerns.

It took some time but he had earned the trust of some of the herd. Learnt some of their ways and left understanding a little of their gift. It would take a centaurs lifetime to learn it all. He had learnt enough. The heavens told them the Hallows would be reunited, that it would happen soon.

Although they had laughed in that peculiar whinnying way of theirs when he asked how soon.

"Soon as the heavens want it to be. Before we see the sun burn out and the skies go dark. Soon."

He hadn't returned to the centaurs after that he had other areas to peruse.

This was the thought that had him row out into the middle of the Black Lake. If the centaurs didn't know maybe the merfolk did. He took his wand and transfigured his clothing. Wizards didn't swim much so he had to follow muggle fashion.

He felt a little scandalised with his ankles bare and the whole thing seemed much too tight. Although the stripes were a nifty touch, he had them in red and gold of a Gryffindor. As such he gathered his courage and stepped out of the boat.

The water was like being hit with a block of ice. The shock of it drove the air from his lungs. He had already applied his bubble head charm. Carefully taking his wand, he altered his density and slowly sank beneath the waves.

It was cold and dark in the lake, his vision faded and water pushed against him and the cold seeped into his very bones.

He had to cast a warming charm. His hands had gone blue and he could barely hold his wand. The cold pushed around him numbing him. His urgency had gone. His panicked movements slowed, he must have cast the charm. He felt warmer already. So much warmer. Insulated, as he sank slowly deeper and deeper into the waters embrace.

His vision faded to just a few feet, then inches. It was so soft and warm, maybe he could sleep.

Then a vision, a creature of beauty, an angel swooped up beneath him. Held him in its strong and powerful hands.

Lifted him up higher and higher. Lifting him from the dark and into the light. He slept then. Cradled like a child, held in its mothers arm.

He awoke in the hospital wing the unlovely Professor Black glowered over him and the school matron standing in his shadow.

"What damn fool thing were you doing this time Dumbledore? Stage two hyperthermia and dressed in Merlin knows what? Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out over a student death? Try and use that great intellect of yours for school work not for coming up with new ways of killing yourself."

Before he had a chance to speak Professor Black swept out of the room leaving him alone with the matron.

"A little abrupt but to the point. You would have died Albus if not for the merpeople. They put you back in your boat and then pulled the boat to the dock. That hideous shouting they do let half the castle know you were there. Savage and strange they might be but they saved you."

"Merpeople? I thought that he was an angel." With that Albus sank back into sleep in the warm beds of the medical wing.

Once he was fit and able Albus was back in the library, scrolls and books littered the table. He had been inadequately prepared last time. He was more desperate than ever to return, not just to learn but to find his angel. To thank him, to worship his beauty. That last idea he kept even from himself.

He needed to know, was it hallucination or true beauty he had seen in the depths of the lake.

He eventually found a plant that would help him. It would alter his body enough that he could breathe and swim and adapt him to the underwater world.

Albus from then had a marked passion for Herbiology. He improvised a bath in the tropical green house. Gillyweed won't grow in Scottish weather but the green house gave him the right climate, the plant was a quick germinator and it was only six, slow and painful weeks before he was ready to go and search for his angel, his rescuer.

He rowed back out into the lake. Arms aching, back stretching, anticipation building. He had a handful of Giilyweed next to him and more in sealed bag at his waist. The books were unclear how long it would last but Albus had learnt the hard way that being in the lake without it could lead to disaster.

This time he glides through the water. His hands and feet extended, gills filtering the oxygen for him. The cold energises him and he heads downward. Deeper and deeper into the lake.

It takes sometime before he finds the village. He is unexpected, an intruder. Fierce looking guards look to block his path. Albus is not afraid. Somewhere here is his angel, his saviour, the creature of beauty that saved him once before.

He slowly sits on the ground throwing up a cloud of silt masking himself from the guards and they from him.

When the mud has settled there is another figure standing in front of him. Albus recognises him. It is his angel. After these long nights dreaming, picturing the face of the otherworldly, the alien beauty of his saviour, his angel is here.

Something is wrong. There is no care in this eyes only anger. His angel is scared and afraid.

He halves the distance between Albus and the guards. "You must not be here." His voice is musical Albus had longed to hear this voice and to be held again by those strong arm but this wasn't right. He was being told to go.

"No one must know, you cannot tell what I have done. My father is coming."

As he spoke an elder merman approached Albus, he leaned on the arm of a young female.

"Why are you here human? Have you come to see how the beasts live?" While his words had a musical quality, the way he said beast held notes of discord.

Albus went to speak but all that came out were bubbles. He couldn't speak. He couldn't profess his thankfulness or declare the bravery of his saviour-angel to the rest of his folk.

He pointed to his angel and then himself. He rocked his arms like a baby and pointed up to the surface.

"Marcus, what does he mean, have you met this human before?"

Albus nodded and repeated his signs simultaneously Marcus spoke. "No father."

"I might be your father but I am Macros clan chief I ask you as a matter of law. Have you met this human before?" The old merman's voice had a power that cut through all who heard it. It was clear that it held some magic Albus didn't understand.

Marcos staggered as if hit.

"Yes clan chief."

"So despite my laws, despite being my son, you met with this human and brought him back here?"

Albus shook his head vigorously. This was his saviour, he had gone what was right.

"No father." Marcos.

The old merman swam slowly forward placing his hands on his sons shoulders. "Speak only the truth. What did you do?"

"I saw this human falling towards us, he was dying, freezing, whatever human magic he used not suitable. I took him back to the surface and left him on his boat. I then let other humans know he needed help."

Macros nodded his understanding and you he turned to Albus. "You foolish human still haven't learnt your lesson. There is a strict laws on my clan we do not interfere with humans, after all we are merely beasts. If not for these laws I would kill you now. You have cost my people a compassionate ruler. Marcos would have been next clan chief but now he will be banished. My daughter will follow me instead. Marcos you have till sunset."

"Please father no."

"You acting with compassion my son. You chose what was good not what was easy but that choice brings with it a consequence. The law is the same for kings as for the lowest. Maybe your sister will let you back. I am proud of you but you need to get your things and leave."

Macros turned to Albus. "Go human. My son was well liked. It is a long way back to the surface although I have laws that say you shouldn't be killed my eyes grow dim."

Albus sat in confusion. What had happened? How could he have caused such pain to his angel?

Albus sat until he saw the first of the tridents was levelled at him. Then he swam.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron found the screeching nearly unbearable as he and Hermione were being shepherded by Professor Dumbledore and Merchieftainess Murcus to the Black Lake. It was one thing to hear those sounds and see a merperson, but to see a hundred-something old bearded man make those noises was disconcerting, to say the least. Hermione, of course, paid the cacophony no mind. In fact, at one point Ron thought he saw her trying to mimic a few of those sounds herself. Rather than chide her about this, Ron soldiered on, muttering about another barmy day at Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Things got a lot barmier after they arrived. Cho Chang and Gabrielle Delacour showed up a few minutes later, and the Merchieftainess slipped into the lake just as graceful as you please.

"I do hope," Professor Dumbledore began, looking rather pointedly at Hermione, "that your reason for being here this evening is a surprise. You are all here because you are very valuable to one of the Tri-Wizard Champions. You may be aware that the second task involves the champions recovering something that has been taken from them. You will be that something. We will send you into the lake, where you will be cared for this evening by the merpeople. In the morning, you will be given a sleeping draught, and tied to a statue in the merpeople's village square. The Champions will have one hour to retrieve you. If your champion is unable to complete the task, the Mercheiftainess will ensure your safe return to the surface. Are there any questions?"

Just as the professor began to see the gears turning in Hermione's head, he continued.

"Very well. As a reward for your participation, we have arranged with the Merchieftainess to have each of you hosted by a Merpeople family for the night. This is a great honour; one nearly never granted to Wizarding kind. I expect each of you to represent yourselves, your school, and indeed, your species accordingly."

There was general nodding and muttering of "yes, sir," after which time Professor Dumbledore touched each of the children on the head with his wand, muttering a spell of some sort, before Merchieftainess Murcus led them gently into the lake.

Growing up next to a small swimming hole, Ron had always been a decent swimmer, but the deeper he descended with the Merchieftainess, the easier things became for him. Even the atmospheric pressure, which often became a problem the deeper he swam, became more of a help than a hindrance. It was if he was swimming with more traction in the water. He eased into a standing position – more of a treading water position, actually – in the middle of the village square. He was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Aconus, their daughter Liv and son Pac, who guided him to their home a half mile from the square.

The most astonishing thing Ron noticed, besides the ubiquity of grey in merpeople fashion, was that his hosts could speak English. The second most astonishing thing was that he couldn't. His attempts at speech produced inaudible air bubbles which he imagined carrying his part of the conversation to the lake's surface. It took a little instruction, but Mr Aconus was able to teach Ron to vocalize from his sinus cavities, rather than his throat, while underwater. By the time they sat down for a late-night snack, Ron had a rudimentary control over his speech.

"I hear that there are the most wonderful games on the surface," Mr Aconus began. "For instance, I've heard it told that you are able to replicate flotation by means of a broom, and use this to play some kind of ball-game. Is this true?"

"Oh, you mean Quidditch," Ron answered, half-garbled in bubbles due to his excitement. "Right. Yeah, we can fly on the brooms pretty high, toss the ball around and try to throw it through a hoop. I don't know that you'd call it floating; we think of it more like flying."

"Fascinating," Mr Aconus continued. "And all this is by means of a broom? Is that the only way you have to travel up and down?"

"Well, Hermione tells me the Muggles have these Air-ee-o-plane contraptions that they use, but for wizards, yeah, it's all on a broom."

"Muggles?" Mr Aconus asked. "Oh, yes. I've heard there was a race of surface-dwellers called Muggle. Have you brought them to heel yet, like we have the Grindylow?"

"Father, the poor boy doesn't need to be smothered by your questions," Liv interjected, just as Ron was working up a suitably offended answer. "It's a big day tomorrow, and he's got to get used to not floating away while he sleeps."

"Nonsense. Surely they have the same straps in place that we do, only to keep them from gravity-ing."

Liv rolled her eyes and took Ron by the hand, guiding him to his room.

"It really wasn't that bad," Ron began, "just that –"

Liv laughed "Oh, you're kind. But Father's absolutely fascinated by the surface. At least weekly he heads upwards to see if he can get a peek at what you lot do up there all day. He's seen his share of picnics, and surprised more than one young couple, from what I overhear him tell Mother."

"Oh, right. I suppose it is warm enough sometimes to be out by the lake. Generally I'm helping Harry try not to die at that time of year, though, and that's –"

"Come again?"

"Harry," Ron replied. "Harry Potter. Have you lot not heard of him down here? He's bloody famous in our world, and for good reason."

For the next hour or so, the two of them sat on Ron's bed while Ron regaled Liv with some of the highlights of Harry's life, paying particular attention to his first three years at Hogwarts. Liv was bemusedly sceptical at first, but by the time Ron told her how Lockhart had nearly buried them all under the Chamber of Secrets, she let out an audible gasp. After hearing about Ron standing up to a werewolf, she gave him the biggest, toothiest smile he had ever seen.

"You're just being modest, aren't you, Ron? They have to talk about you just as much as they do your friend."

"No, really, it's all Harry's doing," Ron protested. "I'm pretty much just there, and –"

"Hush," Liv said, cutting him off with a soft kiss on the lips. "You're just as much a hero as he is. Why don't you get some sleep, and we can talk more about this in the morning."

Needless to say, Ron got very little sleep that night.

Breakfast the following morning was a delightful assortment of local fish – eel, pike filet, and minnow, and Liv allowed Mr Aconus a bit more latitude in asking questions about the surface, sticking primarily to sport. Merpeople, Ron was happy to find out, have several of their own games, but most prefer a game that seemed to him to be rather like muggle Football, except with tridents. Liv asked her share of questions about Hogwarts, and by 9:00, Ron thought that he rather enjoyed being the centre of attention, and was not at all looking forward to returning to the surface. Alas, it was then that Mr Aconus declared it time to head to the village square, but not before Liv was able to steal a moment with him.

"I've really enjoyed your visit, Ron," she said, holding Ron's hands. "I've never met anyone from the surface, but to have an honest-to-Poseidon hero stay with us is something I'll never forget."

"I've enjoyed this, too," Ron said. "Kinda wish I didn't have to go back, if I'm honest. Maybe I'll get lucky and Harry will muck the whole thing up."

Liv laughed. "From what you've told me of your friend, I doubt that is going to happen. But know that if you ever do find yourself at the bottom of the lake, you'll be welcome with us." With that, Liv placed another soft kiss on Ron's lips and swam off, seconds before Mr Aconus came to lead him back to the village square.

After the second task, Ron found out from Hermione that her experience with the merpeople was nothing like his. She was housed with a perfectly nice older woman who simply wanted to see that she had enough to eat before getting to bed herself, which vexed the ravenously-curious Hermione to no end. Ron nodded when asked if his experience had been similar, keeping the details, and the memories, to himself. But for the next two weeks he thought of little else. Liv's olive hair and soft grey skin haunted him in class, in the common room, and – most disturbingly – at mealtimes. Neither Hermione (who was in the midst of her own drama, courtesy of Rita Skeeter) nor Harry (who was never very good at noticing things) had noticed, but by mid-March Ron had become positively obsessed.

He began to first pester Harry, and then Dobby about gillyweed, but was disheartened to learn that the one-hour rule was a hard and fast one. He found himself in the library after that, researching the bubble-head charm, only to find that prolonged exposure to deep water could be just as deadly as the lack of oxygen. But he would not be dissuaded by these setbacks. He was, after all, a hero.

Early in April, just as the weather was getting warm enough for anyone to even contemplate doing something as foolish as swimming, Ron found what he was looking for. It was a spell written in Old English, which detailed how to spend long hours under water, and listed conversations with merpeople as one benefit of this. Ron would have whooped in joy, but he was under Harry's invisibility cloak in the Restricted Section of the library at half one in the morning. Old English pronunciation was not Ron's strongest skill, and he had never heard of half of the minor incantations involved, and he had no idea what, exactly, an Aquae Sulis was or how he should use it in visualization. But he was determined. He would put in the effort, he would learn everything he needed to, and he would visit the Aconuses again.

By the end of May he had come very close. The Old English was still a bit cumbersome, and once in a while he'd still swish instead of flick, but he just about had it. And with the announcement of the Third Task just days away, he knew there was no better time to put his hard work to good use. Early in the morning of the 22nd of May, Ron stole Harry's invisibility cloak once again, and made his way to the lake. He brought along a pocket knife, in case he got tangled on seaweed, changed into his swim trunks and a t shirt, said the spell, and jumped in.

It was bliss. He was able to breathe more quickly than his previous trip, and the traction in the water was even better than before. He dove downward quickly, and the traction increased. What had been a 'surface' for him to kick off of became sticky, rather like fresh tar on a hot day. He began to feel a lump in his throat, but pushed onward, because that's what heroes do.

The following morning, with Gryffindor House silently gathered round, Hagrid volunteered to row to the centre of the lake to retrieve Ron's body.


End file.
